“Definitely,” I said. “But at least you’ve got nothing to worry about. You can prove you were in town when he was killed.”

“Why would I want to kill him?” Johnson shook his head. “That’s the same as killing the goose that laid the golden egg, isn’t it? He was paying me well. He was a baronet—a step up in the world for me. Now I’m back to looking for a new position, like everyone else.”

I watched him as he took out matching pillow slips then closed the cupboard. “If you don’t mind my asking, Johnson,” I said, “you sound as if you’ve had an education. Why are you in service?”

He turned back to me, eyeing me critically for a moment before saying angrily, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there is a depression going on. There are no jobs for people like me—grammar school boys with no family connections behind them. Domestic service gives me a roof over my head, three good meals a day and a decent wage, if you’re lucky enough to latch onto someone like Sir Toby. That’s why I’m so angry he’s been killed. I’d like to throttle the person who did it.”

I moved closer. “Do you have any idea who might have done it?” I asked. “You’ve been close to him recently. You must have some suspicions.”

He was silent for a while. “I’ve thought about it. Believe me, I’ve wondered. Sir Toby wasn’t the best-liked man in the world. And I know some of his business dealings were—what would you say—shady?”

“When I was here yesterday morning and Sir Toby was in the bath—he said something about ‘that slimy little toad’ and some German-sounding name. And he said he’d be sorry. What was that about?”

Johnson closed the cupboard door, holding the sheets draped carefully over one arm. “I’m not quite sure. Some business Sir Toby was doing with an art dealer. He claimed Sir Toby had cheated him.”

“Any chance that the art dealer came here yesterday afternoon?”

“Possible, I suppose. Frankly anyone could have come here and we’d never know, would we? The place was deserted. We don’t even know what Sir Toby was doing back here.”

“I’m just wondering,” I said, as the thought formed in my head. “What if Sir Toby had arranged a secret meeting with somebody? He sent you away, he gave the other servants the afternoon off and he left his yacht very visibly moored in Nice. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?”

Johnson frowned. “Now that you mention it, it does.” “Then I think you should suggest it to the police, and mention this German fellow too,” I said. “At least it would remove the suspicion from me and from you.”